


Soon You'll Get Better

by lostinmorewaysthan1



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Adopted Peter Parker, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hydra Peter Parker, M/M, Parent Tony Stark, Peter Parker Has Panic Attacks, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-01
Updated: 2020-04-18
Packaged: 2020-10-04 14:27:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20472536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lostinmorewaysthan1/pseuds/lostinmorewaysthan1
Summary: Peter Stark was kidnapped. That was all anyone knew. He vanished into thin air, no traces left behind, when he was eight years old.Six years later, on one of the final raids on the HYDRA bases, they find an enhanced assassin, with super strength and the ability to climb walls. No one imagined that it would be Peter. Least of all Tony.With no memory and brainwashed by HYDRA, Peter Stark goes home and tries to recover.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first fic that I've posted on AO3, so if you see any formatting errors, make sure to let me know! Enjoy the story!

Tony held a bouquet of flowers in his hand as he walked into the cemetery. The sky was grey, a fitting backdrop to the scene, Tony thought. He walked through the cemetery past cracked and mossy stones, on a well-worn path. He could see one or two others in the cemetery, paying their respects to lost loved ones. He didn’t pay them much attention though. He was too wrapped up in his own thoughts like he always was on this particular day. 

After a minute or so of navigating his way around, he reached his destination. A medium-sized gravestone that read Peter Stark. It was light and smooth, still relatively new compared to others in the graveyard. There were a few flowers and teddy bears laid on the grave already, some looking a little older than others.

“Hey, kid,” Tony said, crouching down and setting the flowers on the soft soil. “Happy birthday.” Tony took a deep breath, trying to control his emotions. He had promised himself that he wouldn’t cry, not today.

“You would’ve been fourteen today. God, I can’t believe it’s been six years since I last saw you. It seems like yesterday that you were only a few weeks old. At the time, I wasn’t sure if I could be a parent at all. But I have no regrets. You were the best thing that ever happened to me, Pete.” 

He sighed and stayed quiet for a second. “I’m sorry I haven’t visited in a while. I keep trying to move on, because I know that’s what I should be doing, but it feels impossible without you here. Somedays, I’m scared to let you go. Sometimes I can’t even remember your laugh, or how your voice used to sound when you were excited. And I don’t want to lose those little things, because they’re everything. I just wish you were here.” He brushed the tears off his cheek and put his hands in his pocket. Promise broken.

He didn’t know how long he stood there, staring at the gravestone, maybe fifteen minutes, maybe an hour, thinking about Peter, until he felt a hand slip into his. “Hey,” A soft voice said. He glanced over, and Pepper was there, looking somber and serious. Her hair was pulled back, and she was wearing a long black coat. 

“Hey Pep.” He said, his voice rough. 

She squeezed his hand and leaned her head against his shoulder. They stayed like that, quiet and mourning, for another ten minutes before leaving. Peter's death had been a weight they had carried for years.

The day they found the body, was the day Tony’s heart had shattered into a million pieces. It had been two years since Peter had gone missing, and Tony hadn’t been able to sleep at night, because he was just thinking about him, and he had to get him back. He had lost his kid, and it was all his fault. He should have had more security for him, bodyguards, to stop this from happening. Richard had trusted him with Peter after he died, and Tony had gone and messed it up.   
_Your fault._

Peter had been kidnapped straight out in front of his school. And no one had even noticed. No one had seen who had taken him, and no one knew where he had gone. All of the security cameras were erased and put on loop. They had interviewed what must’ve been every kid and their parents, asking if they had seen anything. A few people had seen Peter getting into a black Audi, and that was it. They hadn’t seen the driver, and they didn’t remember the plate number. They had just assumed it was Peter’s regular ride because he seemed to have gotten in willingly. And that was the only clue. The only trace of what had happened to Peter Parker. And his bodyguard had also disappeared.  
God, Tony had messed up. He should have been more attentive. He should have known to add more security detail. Should have, should have, should have. But he hadn’t. And Tony knew that that would always haunt him.

He sat in his lab, fiddling with his suit, trying to get his mind to stop thinking for a few minutes. But he hadn’t been able to turn his brain off for two years, because he was just thinking about Peter, and where he was, and what he would do to his captors when he found them. 

“Sir?’ JARVIS said over the speakers. “There are two NYPD detectives at the door. Should I buzz them in?” She asked. 

Tony nearly dropped the tool he was holding. “Yeah, yeah, let them up.” He said. He wiped his hands off on his jeans. Officers meant news. News of Peter.   
Tony’s hands were shaking as he made his way to the living room. God, he hoped that the news was good. That Peter had been spotted somewhere, or a new piece of evidence had come up. Anything that would move the case forward. 

On the coffee table, JARVIS had pulled up information on both of the officers, all that she could find from their facial scans. Brian Sullivan and Dominic Myers. Both high ranking detectives in the NYPD. He waved away the holograph and paced anxiously, waiting for them to arrive.

The elevator doors slid open, and two men wearing dress shirts and blazers walked in. They wore grim expressions, and Tony’s heart plummeted. 

“So?” He asked. He had never felt so vulnerable. Not once. Not in Afghanistan or New York. He felt exposed, for the whole world to see.

“I think we’d better be sitting for this Mr. Stark.” One of the detectives, Myers, said. 

Tony walked over to the couch slowly, dreading whatever news they had for him. He had several large white couches, all arranged in a circle, and the two detectives sat on the couch opposite him. The second detective, Sullivan, had a manilla folder in his hand. He was holding it uncertainly. 

After a beat of silence, Myers looked at his shoes before looking back up at Tony. “We regret to inform you of this Mr. Stark, but your son has been found dead.” 

For a second, Tony felt like he was going to float away, untethered and unfocused. He put his head in his hands. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Not Peter. Not the little kid who used to smile up at him without a care in the world. The kid that had forced him to watch countless Star Wars movies, but not really forced him because Tony had always liked to spend time with him. Not the kid who he had built giant LEGO sets with. Not the kid who liked to come downstairs and tinker with scrap metal, while Tony worked on a project, just to keep him company. No, no, no._Your fault._ He could feel his breaths speeding up, but he couldn’t help it. 

“Mr. Stark?” Tony looked up, barely able to contain his grief. His vision was blurry with tears and he felt like he was melting right onto the tile floor in front of the officers.  
“We’ll leave you for now, but the details of the death are in this folder.” Sullivan had a sympathetic look on his face as he put the folder on the coffee table, and he and his partner walked out of the apartment.

Tony barely registered what he had said. He couldn’t focus on anything other than Peter. He just kept seeing his face in his mind, his smile, his glasses with the black frames, and he wanted him back. Safe and sound and breathing. Absentmindedly, he picked up the folder as the elevator doors dinged shut. He opened it, and the first thing he saw was a skeleton, wearing Peter’s favorite shirt, jeans, and a backpack, in the middle of some woods. He snapped the folder shut quickly, his mind reeling, and laid on the couch. Then he sobbed. And sobbed. And he didn’t stop for hours.

FOUR YEARS LATER

Peter lifted his gun, aimed, and squeezed the trigger. The target fell slack, crumpling to the ground in the doorway to their house. Clean and simple. Peter always found these jobs boring. The ones with hand to hand combat were always more interesting. At least he could feel invigorated by the rush of dodging and landing hits on the other person, rather than sit on a roof and be a detached entity in the shadows. The excitement of missions was the only time where he could escape labs and small, dark rooms. He loved it. (Didn’t he?) He wasn’t sure. He knew he was supposed to, so he must. He certainly felt something, which didn’t happen at any other time. His mind always felt vaguely blurred. Like he was missing something. 

He shook his head. He had to be alert. He couldn’t keep getting lost in thought like this. He scanned the street, looking for possible witnesses, but the street was deserted. It was midday in the suburbs, so people were at work. They wouldn’t discover the body until that night. Peter strode across the street, his ears perked for the sound of a car approaching, but he could only hear the rustle of leaves from the trees that stood on the lawns of people’s houses. The man lay on the ground, his lips slightly parted and his eyes staring at the sky. He stared at the man for a second, and a tiny voice in his head said, _How could you do this?_ He blinked. He didn’t know where the voice had come from. He couldn’t recognize the wave of emotion it had filled him with for a second while the voice spoke. But he wasn’t here to be conflicted. He was here for his mission. He pulled a black leather bag off the man’s body and slung it over his shoulder. He turned and walked to the rendezvous point he had arranged with his superiors, a red fire hydrant several blocks from the scene of the murder. A minute after he arrived, the nondescript black van pulled up. His ride was here.

Once Peter had been given food, he immediately went to his sleeping chamber. That’s what his superiors called it. It was a small glass case with wires trailing off the bed in the center. Every night before he went to sleep, Peter would attach the cords to different spots on his head so that they could monitor him as he slept. He had never questioned why before, but that night as he stepped into the room he wondered if there was a reason other than to monitor his safety, which was what they had told him. He brushed off the thought. He didn’t know where this new voice in his head was coming from. He was a loyal agent, and that meant never questioning his superiors and always obeying his orders. So he laid down attached the wires as usual and tried to ignore the fact that there were probably people watching him from the other side of the glass as he drifted to sleep. 

That night, Peter had a dream. He couldn’t ever recall having a dream before, but he figured this was what it was. He was sitting on a comfy sofa in a bright, spacious room, next to a man. The man was dark-haired and had a slight smile as Peter grabbed a wrapped box from under a tree. It was adorned with different colored lights and small objects hung from the branches.

“Is this one mine?” Peter asked, and felt an excited grin spread across his face. The box was large, bigger than his lap and wrapped in dark green paper.

The man smiled back at him. “Yeah. You gonna open it or what?” 

Peter ripped open the packaging and opened the box to find a big box with a picture of a spaceship on it, just like in his favorite movie. But Peter didn’t have a favorite movie. He didn’t even know what a movie was. But the dream kept going, leaving Peter little time to contemplate what a movie could be. On the corner of the box, there was a bright red logo that said LEGO on it, which seemed to be the key appeal of it to dream Peter. At that moment, he noticed that something was strange about the man. In the center of his chest, there was a small, blue, glowing circle. Peter couldn’t believe that he hadn’t noticed it at once. Peter noticed everything, especially strange things like blue circles in men’s chests. But his brain had passed right over it. 

“Woah!” He heard himself say. “This is awesome.” He leaned into the man and hugged him. “Thanks, Dad.”

“Hey, no problem kid. Do you want to start building now?” The man said, ruffling his hair. Peter felt confused. His superiors never hugged him or ruffled his hair. They hardly ever touched him, unless Peter did something wrong, then punishment ensued. So who was he dreaming about, if this man wasn’t his superior? 

Peter woke with a start as alarms blared through the facility. He ripped off the wires instinctively and jumped to his feet. Scientists scurried around the lab, packing things into boxed hurriedly and he could hear soldiers shouting in the hallway. 

A second later, his commander entered. “We have a breach of the facility. Put on your specialized battle gear and wait in the east wing to protect the scientists as they evacuate their work, Spider.” He said briskly. 

A lady in a lab coat approached the commander. “Sir, I don’t know if he’s fit for action. His brain activity was more irregular last night. He might not be able to handle the situation, given the… circumstances.” She said, gripping a clipboard. 

“We don’t have any other choice. His training will prevail. He won’t betray HYDRA. Will you, Spider?” He said, and Peter shook his head. The man gave a curt nod, then dashed out, yelling out commands to soldiers in the hallways. The lady still looked at Peter skeptically, but she knew that now that he had his orders, he couldn’t disobey them. The scientists monitoring him quickly made their way out as well, carrying sheaves of paper. Peter hurried and changed out of his stealth outfit, which was just black pants, shirt, and combat boots, and put on his battle gear, which was a skintight outfit designed to enhance his powers and give him an advantage in hand to hand combat, along with a metal mask that covered his face up to his eyes. He had several knives tucked in his belt as well in case his web-shooters ran out of fluid, as well as a small handgun. He felt disoriented from the dream still after he had geared up, but he couldn’t let it mess up his assignment. Whatever he had seen in the dream didn’t matter. 

Slowly and quietly, he crawled on the ceiling to the part of the building he had been instructed to wait in. Scientists scurried out of their rooms, carrying briefcases full of papers. He waited for around ten minutes until new footsteps approached the corridor. 

“I am now in section 12 of the building.” A tall blond man said, scanning the hallway. He was dressed in a blue outfit and had a large shield with red circles and a star in the middle. Silently, Peter jumped onto the floor behind him. He landed silently, a skill he had mastered after hours of training, and more wounds than he cared to count.  
He shot a web around the man’s leg and pulled it out from under him. The man fell with a grunt, but jumped to his feet immediately, holding his shield out in front of him. He lunged at Peter, but he dodged him with ease, jumping to the wall and then pushing himself off feet first, and he hit the man square in the chest. The man stumbled, and Peter rolled as he hit the ground and regained his footing. 

Peter knew that there was still one more scientist left in this section of the building, and he had to at least hold off this man until the scientist had evacuated the building. The man threw his shield at Peter, who jumped onto the ceiling as the shield hit the wall and bounced off. Peter shot off two webs. Both of them sticking the man’s arms to the wall. He shot off two more, which pinned down the man’s legs. Swiftly, Peter ripped the communicator out of his ear and stomped on it. As the man struggled against the webs, Peter went to the room of the last scientist to find him gathering up the rest of his research. 

“Hurry,” Peter said, and he looked up, almost fearful. Good, Peter thought. The more people that were afraid of him, the better. It meant he was doing his job.   
The scientist gathered his papers and rushed out of the room, glancing nervously at the man stuck to the wall. 

As Peter was leaving the man called out, “Who are you?” Peter glanced back for a moment, the question making him freeze for a second. He didn’t know. Weren’t you supposed to know? Peter shook it off. He was the Spider. He was a highly trained assassin, loyal to his cause, HYDRA. The voice in the back of his head, it was wrong. He knew who he was. He turned forward and left without another word. But the question echoed in the back of his head. “Who are you?”

A couple of minutes later, Tony found Steve stuck to the wall. He had never felt so mortified in his life. Captain America, pegged to a wall.

“What happened?” Tony asked, his voice slightly tinny from his suit, sounding vaguely amused if Steve wasn’t mistaken. 

“There’s an enhanced at this base. Can stick to walls, shoots whatever the heck this is from his wrists. Maybe more.” Steve said. “I can’t seem to break through this stuff. It’s really strong.” He had been trying to break it ever since they had been attached, but even his super strength couldn’t seem to snap the, whatever it was.

Tony sighed. “We can probably find a way to saw through it. Do you have a knife on you?” 

“Yeah. In my belt.” 

Tony found the knife and began to attempt to cut through the sticky stuff. “The base is completely empty. They managed to evacuate most of the people here, but we got a lot of research and some prisoners from the mission, so that’s good. The rest are trying to go after stragglers.” Tony said, hacking away at Steve’s right hand. The substance had begun to give way to the knife, but barely.

Steve nodded.

“What else could you tell from the enhanced?” Tony asked.

“I don’t know. He had a mask all the way up to his eyes, like Bucky’s mask, but I didn’t hear him speak. And he’s pretty strong too. He managed to knock me over with a kick. What do you think?” 

Tony shook his head. He had freed both of Steve’s hands and was working on freeing his feet. “It could be a Barnes situation, with mind control. Or maybe he’s crazy enough to be working with HYDRA of his own free will. Either way, we gotta find him before he causes a lot more problems for us. I’m just glad he didn’t kill you.” Tony said, and he managed to cut away the last of the bonds. 

“We couldn’t go and lose our favorite grandpa, now could we?” 

Steve brushed off his arms and legs, as a few bits of fiber clinging to his uniform and grinned. “Let’s go look for this guy. He can’t have gotten far.” 

“I got this one, Captain. Why don’t you gather up the rest of the team and make sure they’re ready to go?” 

Steve nodded. “Ok, but be careful with this guy, ok Tony? We don’t know anything about him.” 

“Will do Cap.” He said, mock saluting.

As Peter walked through the snowy woods surrounding the base, he felt grateful for his surprisingly warm suit. He had run out of web fluid a little while back, so he was forced to trudge the rest of the way to the rendezvous point, a small town miles from the base. It was his fault for forgetting to refill the container before they evacuated. Now he was stuck taking the long route.

He was trying to be stealthy, but it was rather difficult when he had an all-black bodysuit on against the stark white snow, so it wasn’t much of a surprise when he heard the whir of motors in the distance fast approaching. Still, he scaled the side of a tree and tried to hide in the foliage. As he settled himself on a branch, something lowered itself down into the clearing where he had been standing. 

At first, he thought it was an aircraft of some sort. But he soon realized that aircrafts weren’t that small or… red. He got a better look at what it was and realized that it was a robotic suit. It was surveying the area now, and Peter wondered if it was just a robot, or if there was a person inside the suit. That information would help him if he was discovered up there and had to fight. 

When it turned its head, and he saw the glowing blue eyes of the suit, a stab of pain coursed through the front part of his brain, almost causing him to fall from the branch he was perched on. 

A voice echoed in his head. “Hey, Pete, make sure not to forget your glasses, okay?” 

He saw a flash of the same man’s face that he had seen in his dream. Peter squeezed his eyes shut, trying to get the image out of his head. He needed to focus, and he didn’t know where the images were coming from. He might’ve thought the man was an old superior, but his superiors always called him Spider. They never called him Peter. Wait, how did he know his name was Peter? That was what he had always called himself inside his head, but no one else had ever called him that. And Peter didn’t need glasses. The opposite actually. He had enhanced vision, which allowed him to take in more than the average human. That was one of his enhancements, as his superiors called them.   
As these thoughts ran through his head, swirling around him at a million miles per minute, this time he really did lose his footing and he fell, barely catching himself on a branch before lowering himself to the ground. He landed more clumsily than he would have usually because his head was still throbbing, but he had to ignore that for now. It didn’t matter what was wrong with his head. It only mattered that he reported back to his superiors in time. He couldn’t fathom what would happen, what they would do to him if he didn’t. The man/robot, whatever it was, turned in surprise, the suit making a series of whirring noises that pierced the quiet serenity of the forest. 

“Took a tumble, did ya?” He quipped. 

Peter felt another stab in his brain. The voice felt so painfully familiar. Push it back, he told himself. At least now he knew that this was most certainly not a robot. He just had to weaken the armor and take him down so that he could make his escape. He jumped and landed a punch on the mask, figuring the best place to start was the head. The man stumbled back and raised his right palm as Peter rolled back into the snow, the cold stinging his face, but he barely felt it. He barely ever felt anything. A blue circle began to glow in the center of his hand, and Peter barely dodged the blast that came out of his hand and hit a tree behind him. Peter went for the mask again, and this time, it flew straight off, revealing that there was indeed a person in the suit. 

Peter whipped his gun up, his hand shaking slightly. He pressed it against the man’s forehead. Peter knew that face. But he couldn’t. Peter wasn’t supposed to know anything. He wasn’t supposed to be anything. He was just a hitman. He had no past and no future. That was the way it had always been. He was nothing. He should be nothing. 

“Why are you in my head?” He said. He was breathing hard now and he could feel his eyes filling up with tears. He had never cried before, and he hated the feeling. It was weak. The pain in his head was overwhelming, taking over every sense that he had. The rest of the area seemed blurred, and everything was too loud and too bright. 

“What are you talking about?” The man said, a hint of panic on his face, but Peter could tell he was trying to suppress it. 

“I-I need you out! I can’t d-do this. I can’t- it hurts.” Peter’s finger seized, not budging. He wanted to pull the trigger, get rid of the pain. He didn’t want to feel anything if this was what feeling felt like. He wanted to be numb again. But his finger was refusing to move, refusing to do what he wanted. 

“Hey, listen, we can help you. HYDRA took advantage of you. Controlled you. We can help. Just-just tell me your name.” The man said.

Before he could answer, he felt a prick in the back of his neck, and the world began to dull around him. He felt his muscles turn to jelly, and the world went dark.

“Figured you needed a hand there,” Natasha said, standing in front of the now passed out man.

“Yeah, thanks,” Tony said letting out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding. He looked down at the guy he had been fighting. He was definitely the guy that had also fought Steve but when Tony had fought him he had seemed off-kilter and erratic. The skin around his eyes was blotchy and red. Not exactly a highly trained assassin like he was expecting. And he was young, too, judging by his voice. Younger than anyone involved in stuff like this should be. 

“Is this the enhanced?” Nat asked, surveying the guy. “He’s smaller than I expected.” 

“Yeah, well, he still packs a punch,” Tony said, rubbing the side of his face where the enhanced had hit him. There was a small cut on the side of his face, and it stung in the cold air. 

Natasha bent down to get a closer look at him and took the mask off of his face. When she finally got the mask off Tony felt like all the air had been sucked out of his lungs. He staggered and he put his arm against a tree and turned away for a second. He squeezed his eyes shut and all he could see was Peter’s face again, eight years old and smiling at him as he left for school on the last day Tony would ever see him. 

“No, no, no, no. Please. Anyone else.” He whispered under his breath. He looked so much like his father. 

“Tony? Please don’t tell me this is who it looks like.” Natasha said, and Tony could hear horror seeping out of the edges of her voice. Tony took a shuddering breath and tried not to cry. 

“Yeah,” Tony said, and he turned around again. There was Peter, lying in the snow, six years older than when Tony had last seen him. Tony knelt, the suit making it a bit harder than usual. It was definitely Peter. He was the spitting image of his dad, and Tony could see a small scar above his left eyebrow where he had fallen off his scooter and had to get stitches, three of them, when he was seven. Tony reached out and grabbed his hand because it was Peter. Peter was here. Peter was alive, despite everything. But that also meant that HYDRA had spent the last six years controlling his kid, making him do God knows what and wiping all of his memories. He looked up at Natasha for a second, and she looked like she was having some painful flashbacks from her own past. They sat there for a while, their breaths the only noise in the forest around them.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all of the positive feedback on the last chapter! I wasn't even expecting this story to get a hundred hits, so I'm over the moon. Enjoy!

Tony stared mindlessly through the one-way glass window at the boy shackled to the chair, still passed out. After the raid, Tony had brought him onto the Quinjet, much to the confusion of the rest of the team. He had explained the situation to them and he saw the shock and horror on their faces when they looked at the kid passed out in front of them. They had almost all met Peter, and they remembered the sweet little kid he had been seven years ago, before. The rest of the plane ride was met with a grim silence throughout the rest of the plane. And now, they had Peter tied up because of course, they had to, but it broke Tony’s heart because the Peter Tony had known didn’t even like to kill flies, and the thought of HYDRA taking control of him and making him do unspeakable things. Tony suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder and found Steve, who he hadn’t even noticed had come in. 

“How are you feeling?” Steve asked, taking a spot at the window next to him. He had changed out of his Captain America outfit and was just wearing jeans and a grey t-shirt. 

Tony sighed, and he felt seven years of grief and guilt in a tight ball in his chest. “I don’t know,” Tony said, and it was true. He couldn’t think of words to describe the feeling he had when he saw Peter, but a different Peter, shackled to a chair. It was all so complicated and messy, and Tony had never been someone who was good at dealing with emotions. 

Steve just gave a knowing nod and left it at that. He, better than anyone, understood what Tony was feeling at that moment. He had gone through the same nearly three years ago with Bucky, after all. “When is he going to wake up?” Steve asked.

“Nat said that the tranquilizer would wear off in about six hours, so in a few hours he’ll be awake, then we go from there, I guess.” 

“It’ll be okay,” Steve said, looking over at Tony with that sympathetic look that he had. Tony found the look incredibly annoying at times, but he barely registered it then. “He will remember.” 

“Yeah, but when? It took Bucky two years to remember. How long will it be for him? I don’t want to wait another second. I lost six years. I’m not keen on losing any more.”

Steve shook his head. “We have to believe, I guess, that he’ll recover. That seems to be all we can do at the moment.” He frowned and looked through the glass. “Is he waking up?” He asked, his posture straightening. 

Tony’s head snapped up, and sure enough, the boy was stirring, his eyes flitting open. “What the hell?” Tony said. “That tranquilizer should still be in effect.” 

Peter looked up and around the room, seeming to scan every object in the room, a placid expression on his face. 

From behind them, they heard Natasha. “He’s already up?” Tony and Steve both turned to see her leaning in the doorway, still dressed in her combat gear. The look of surprise on her face mirrored Steve and Tony’s. 

“Somehow, yeah,” Steve said. 

“Alright, well, I was hoping to get some rest before doing this, but that’s life.” She said, her posture straightening. 

“Do what?” Tony asked, hiding the panic he felt inside under layers of nonchalance. 

“We have to question him. He’s a member of HYDRA, brainwashed or not. And it will also help us see if he has any memories, or anything really, from his old life. Recognition, a feeling, something.” Natasha said. Tony nodded, feeling numb as Natasha walked into the room.

When Peter woke up, he was in a dark room, his hands and feet shackled to a chair. He had been in these rooms before, with the large mirror in front of him and the cold metal table, but he had never been the person in the chair. The last thing he remembered was the sensation of someone taking his mask off, and how wrong it felt to Peter. The mask was a part of him. He never took it off on a mission, so that nobody would recognize him, and also partly to hide his youth. Peter never minded how old he was, but his superiors seemed to think if people believed he was older that would make him more threatening, and Peter was never one to argue. If his superiors thought it was better, then they were right.

Peter tried to break out of the bonds, but to his surprise, he couldn’t get the shackles to break. They were obviously designed to withstand incredible amounts of stress to not break with Peter’s super strength.

As he looked around the room, trying to think of an escape route, a woman walked in. She had a long red bob, and she was wearing some kind of black fighting suit. Peter stayed silent as she sat down on a metal chair across from him, eyeing him suspiciously. 

“Let’s get started then.” She said, her expression remaining stoic and serious. “What’s your name?” She asked. 

"They call me Spider,” Peter said. That was true. He couldn’t reveal any weaknesses to whoever had captured him, not any more than he had already displayed. If he revealed his uncertainty, they would exploit it, and try to corrupt him. It wasn’t going to happen. Peter was loyal to HYDRA, and HYDRA only. 

“A code name isn’t a real name. What’s your name?” She said. 

“They call me the Spider.” He repeated. 

The woman sighed. “What’s your mission?” She asked, her fingers drumming the table. Peter could still feel the edges of a headache ebbing in the center of his forehead, and the tapping only seemed to increase it. 

“To serve HYDRA,” Peter said and repeated it like a mantra in his brain. Serve HYDRA, serve HYDRA, serve HYDRA, serve HYDRA, over and over. It helped to ground him, to keep him focused on his true, and his only purpose. He didn’t answer any more questions. The woman asked him many, many questions, but he kept his mouth shut, simply staring at her, devoid of emotion. He was surprised that she hadn’t taken to more extreme methods yet. If this were an interrogation at HYDRA, they would have begun the torture long ago. They were better. More efficient. The best way to get information out of someone was old fashioned torture. Peter knew. He had been present at enough of them to know how easily people caved when faced with pain. But not him. He had been trained to withstand nearly everything his enemies would throw at him. He had scars on his chest to prove it, and he wore them proudly, like signs of honor. 

The Avengers sat around a table in their conference room, somber expressions on their faces. They had finally managed to get enough chairs for the whole team in the room, but there was hardly any room left at the table. They had all changed into their civilian clothing, and Wanda still had damp hair from showering. After Natasha had finished interrogating Peter for the moment, they had called a meeting. The boy had been unresponsive after the first couple of questions, and Natasha had spent another 30 minutes asking him questions while he had just stared at her, his eyes dull and lifeless. 

“So, what do we do?” Sam asked, breaking the silence in the room. 

“Bucky, you went through this, got any ideas? Anything that could trigger his memory?” Steve asked, leaning back in his chair. 

Bucky was quiet for a moment, thinking, before speaking up. “Familiar faces. His old name. That was what started it for me. It might take a while though. He’s hardly going to remember anything, just snippets. It might help if he can talk to someone he used to know.” 

Tony took his head out of his hands, where it had been for a while, to see the room staring at him. He gripped the arms of his chair. “Yeah, okay. What should I do?” He asked. The prospect of talking to Peter again made him feel simultaneously wistfully happy and like he wanted to run out of the room. How was he supposed to face Peter and pretend that he hadn’t failed him? He was supposed to have protected him. That was his job, and he had screwed it up. 

“Just talk to him. Ask him questions. Try to get him to respond. That’s the main goal. If he responds, that may mean that he’s starting to question his programming.” Tony squeezed the arms of his chair even tighter when he heard the word programming. The idea of anyone messing with his kid's head as they did with Bucky made him want to hurl.

“What are we going to tell Ross and the U.N council about him?” Vision asked, speaking up for the first time in the meeting. 

“Well, we’re sure as hell not going to tell Ross anything for now. His solution to anything enhanced is to lock it up.” Tony said, looking around at the rest of them. Wanda was tapping her finger on the table as if trying to dispel a bad memory, while Sam stared down at the table. 

“We surely can’t keep him a secret, though. It will only bring about worse repercussions down the line if the boy starts to recover, and the council finds out about it then.” Vision replied in his calm and logical manner, as was his way.

Steve chimed in. "We have a day before Ross calls. We can figure this out later. I think that we should all just rest for now. We're all tired."

Before anyone could respond, FRIDAY came over the speakers. 

“Boss? Peter has broken through his restraints and is currently trying to break down the door of the interrogation room.” Immediately, the team jumped to their feet, ready to fight. 

“We’ll handle it,” Steve said, motioning to Tony and Natasha, and they rushed out towards the interrogation room.

Peter had managed to get out of his cuffs. It had taken a considerable amount of effort, but he had done it. He slammed his body against the door, feeling it shudder beneath the force. He charged it once more, and the hinges flew out of the frame. Peter surveyed his surroundings, and he saw several people charging at him from his right side. They weren’t soldiers, at least not on duty ones, so he figured he could take them down easily. He was wrong. He swung at the first man, the blond one, and hit him hard in the face. He staggered backward and Peter turned his focus to the next person attacking him. The red-headed woman from earlier. In the corner of his eye, Peter saw a third man, but he didn't seem eager to join in the fight just yet, so he ignored him. The woman threw several punches at him, but he deflected them with ease and tried to land a jab to her stomach, but she sidestepped him. The blond man had seemingly recovered from Peter’s hit and was now coming at him as well. Peter was managing to hold back both of them for about a minute, blocking and dodging, but not landing any hits on them either, until he felt the blond man’s fist hit him in his temple, and everything went black. 

When Peter woke up, he was different. Everything was different. Everything was more. His emotions weren’t dull and in the background anymore, they were accented, real and heavy and poignant. He felt fear and uncertainty, at who he was, where he was, about everything, except for one thing. He was definitely not supposed to be working for HYDRA. His memories were faded, like a painting with water spilled on it, but they were there. Pain. So much pain. Darkness, and a large machine that attached itself to his head, and needles. Screaming. Maybe his own. 

He was back in the dark room, and he had a new chair with stronger restraints. His heart felt like it was about to burst out of his chest, and he was taking in quick breaths, trying to steady himself and keep himself from panicking. He wasn’t at HYDRA, but this was not a safe place either. He was a captured agent. He had attacked them and tried to kill them. They wouldn’t be going easy on him. He couldn’t show weakness. He was still on his guard.

A couple of minutes passed as Peter tried to regain his stature, but he couldn’t seem to pull himself together. A million questions kept turning round and round in his head, but one stood out and repeated itself over and over. Who was he? He had no memories from before HYDRA. And he knew that he couldn’t have always been at HYDRA, could he? But maybe that was all that there was to him. A creation of HYDRA, through and through. Peter shuddered at the thought, but he couldn’t find another explanation just then. 

A few minutes later, the redhead came back in the room, eyeing him, and she sat in the chair across from him again. “Let’s try this again, shall we?” She said, put her elbows on the table and leaning forward. “What’s your name?” 

“I-I think it’s Peter.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll probably try to update every week or two consistently, but I sometimes have a mountain of homework and don't always have time to work on this story as my main focus, so I apologize in advance for any delayed chapters. Anyway, leave what you thought of the chapter in the comments! I love to hear from you guys


	3. Chapter 3

The woman raised her eyebrows when he told her his name, but otherwise, she seemed unperturbed. “Nice to meet you, Peter. My name is Natasha. I’m going to be asking you some questions. Is that okay?”

Peter tilted his head, confused. He couldn’t remember the last time anyone had asked him if he was okay with something. He was just expected to be okay with everything. That’s what he was programmed to be. Prepared and ready. He paused for a moment before responding to her question. “Yes.”

“Good.” She said. “First question. When is your birthday?” 

Peter was beyond confused. He knew his brain was foggy, but he knew that interrogations weren’t supposed to go like this. There were supposed to be more questions about HYDRA. About the location of their bases. About the names of his superiors. He had never been trained for questions about himself. He didn’t matter. He was a part of something greater, and that was what made him important. At least, that was what they had told him. 

“I don’t know.” He said, shaking his head. His voice cracked, and Peter hated himself for being so vulnerable. He still had no idea where he was. Hell, he had no idea who he was. He couldn’t go around, being exposed to strangers. 

“That’s okay. How about you tell me what you remember? I know that you were a brainwashed HYDRA agent. They took most of your memories, but I want you to try to tell me anything you remember.” 

“Why?” Peter asked. He still didn’t trust this woman. She seemed to know too much about him. How was she aware that he was brainwashed? He was pretty sure that mind control wasn’t a thing that HYDRA did with most of their soldiers. That fact made him uneasy, and the fact that he was still chained up in an interrogation room, for another. 

She seemed to see the distrust in his eyes. “We just want to help you, Peter. You had your life stolen from you by HYDRA, and we want to help you get it back.” She said. 

“I don’t have a life. I’m not important enough. I’m just a tool in HYDRA’s workbox.” He said. A small voice in the back of his head contradicted him, but he didn’t listen. He couldn’t remember having any sort of life before. He didn’t remember, so what could he do about it? If he truly did used to have a life, he doubted whoever had been a part of that life would be looking for him. 

“So you don’t remember anything from before you were an agent of HYDRA? Absolutely nothing?” She asked, scanning his face for a telltale sign. 

He stayed silent, thinking back to his dream the night before, about the man with the circle in his chest, and how he had seen that man again, the same day. If he had ever had a past, that man was the link. Peter was sure of it. He had called the man Dad in the dream. Maybe that meant something. Peter wasn’t sure what, though, was the problem. Was the man an enemy or a friend? Could he trust him? He didn’t know, but in the dream, he had felt familiar. Safe. Peter couldn’t remember feeling that at any other time in his life. Trust was not a feeling he was well acquainted with. But when he saw the man in the metal suit in the forest, he had fought him. Peter had almost killed him. After that, even if they had known each other before, the man would hate Peter. He was sure of it. 

After Peter had been silent for a few seconds, Natasha said, “So you do remember something.” She studied his face for a moment, and Peter could tell that she was trying to discern what kind of memory he was having. 

“Barely anything.” He said, avoiding eye contact with her. She could obviously read people’s faces pretty well, and he wanted to stay as concealed as possible. 

“What do you remember? Any small thing.” She urged. 

Peter shook his head. “It’s not important.”

“You’d be surprised, kid.”

“No.” He said. He wasn’t about to give this woman any leverage against him. She could exploit whatever he told her to benefit her. He wasn’t naive. He knew that vulnerability only ever leads to pain for him. He wasn’t going to make any mistakes. He didn’t believe that this woman really wanted to help him, not after he had tried to kill her and her teammates.

She sighed. “I need something to work with here kid. You’re going to have to trust me if you want to break out of this cycle that HYDRA has you trapped in. I get it though. I do. It took me years to trust anyone. I just hope it won’t be the same for you.” 

“You won’t be able to help me.” He said. That much he knew. She pretended that she knew, but he knew that she wouldn’t. She couldn’t.

“You’d be surprised. One memory comes out, who knows, maybe more will follow.”

He paused for a moment, thinking. In the forest, seeing the man and his suit had stirred up a couple of memories so vague, they felt less like memories and more like feelings. “I remember the ocean.” He said finally. He didn’t want to tell her about his memory of the man, not until he knew whether or not to trust her. “I remember the beach and the smell of salt.” 

“That’s a start.” She said. “You don’t remember any people?” 

He shook his head, and she just stared at him for a second. “Ok.” She said, unzipping her jacket. Peter flinched slightly, only barely, but instead of a weapon, she pulled out a thin folder. Peter stared at it as she set it on the table. “I’ve got some pictures here, of some people you might recognize from your old life. HYDRA kidnapped you when you were eight and made it seem like you were dead. You used to live in Miami with your father. Triggering any memories yet?”

“No.” He said. Eight seemed to be an older age. He felt like he should remember something more from that time of his life, but it felt like this woman was telling him about someone else’s life entirely. 

She flipped open the folder, and first, she pulled out a picture of a young boy, no more than ten years old, and set it in front of him. He grinning at the person taking the picture and he was holding up some kind of machinery, obviously proud of whatever he was holding. 

Peter felt a memory rip through him. He remembered darkness, cut only by a flickering greenish bulb. He was strapped to a chair, just like he was now, but there was something wrapped around his head too, something cool and metal. He was laying down, and he couldn’t see anyone, but he could hear and feel them moving around him. They were saying things, but the phrases were jumbled in his mind. He could only remember a couple of words. Electrocution, test, subject. Someone was shoving a piece of rubber in his mouth, and then the pain started. It coursed through his body, red hot and excruciating. It lasted for all of about ten seconds, and afterward, it left his body aching all over, and his throat felt raw from screaming. He felt sobs building up in his throat, but he pushed them down as best he could. They were watching him. If he showed them weakness, they would do it again. As he tried to suppress his cries, a scientist leaned over and stared at him. Peter stayed silent like he knew he was supposed to, and held still. He didn’t seem to know much else. There were fuzzy figures in his head, voices he couldn’t remember, and names that were faded. They were stripping him away, like renovators peeling away wallpaper. Taking him out and replacing him with their own parts. Soon, he would be nothing at all. 

Peter jolted back to the interrogation room, his heart thumping. If staring at that photograph had dredged up that memory, he was scared to see what else was in store for him. Natasha was staring at him again, probing him. “What did you remember there?” She asked him. 

He stared at her for a second. He knew that he probably shouldn’t tell her. Trusting people had never gotten him anywhere. But he didn’t get the warning from his body that something was wrong like he usually did. No hairs rising on his arm or tingle on the back of his neck. “The programming.” He said finally. 

The woman nodded, tilting her head slightly. "Can you tell me about that?" She said. 

"No." He said. 

"Okay. I'm going to show you another picture now," She said, putting the other photo back into the file. "This is a photo of your father." She said, sliding a photo out of the file.

It was a standard picture of a man, somewhere Peter didn't recognize, wearing a suit. He had black hair and a goatee, and a half-grin on his face. No memories came back to him immediately, but he got a sharp pain in the front of his head, and he got a sense of loss looking at the photo. 

“Do you recognize him?” She asked. Peter nodded and reminded himself to keep his emotions in check. 

Keeping all feeling out of his voice, he said, “Yes. I fought him in the forest.” 

“But you remember him from more than that, don’t you?” She said. 

He stared at the photo for a moment, and he could feel the memories in the back of his mind, out of reach and blurred. He remembered laughing, and his dream, and a thousand things he couldn’t put his finger on. 

Natasha didn’t ask him much else, she just kept probing for Peter to tell her more memories, but he wouldn’t relent. She left after many unsuccessful attempts, and the interrogation room was empty. The silence was nice, and much more comfortable for him. He let out a breath and closed his eyes. He never was left alone for very long, and this was one of those rare moments where he could relax. Of course, he knew he probably wasn’t truly alone, since there were likely people watching him from behind that glass mirror, or they were watching him from a camera. But he could pretend, just for a moment, that he was alone. His head was still hurting, and he could feel old memories trying to push through, screaming to be freed. The problem was, he wasn’t sure what was holding them back. He could almost remember faded faces and events that happened so long ago. He remembered the taste of hot chocolate for some reason, but not anytime he had ever tried it, or who he was with. And what he had told Natasha was true, he did remember the ocean. He remembered the gulls screeching overhead, clear blue skies and heat, and kicking around in the waves. He remembered the smell of salt wafting off the water and the way the ocean seemed endless like it went on forever. And the picture she had shown him had made him feel like he was missing even more memories. He knew the man was important, but he didn’t have the slightest clue who he was. He felt he should remember more if the man was his father, but all he had was one memory from a strange dream, and he didn’t even know for sure if that was really a memory or not. He just wanted something solid to hold onto, and right now, all he really knew for sure was that his name was Peter, and he was a weapon of Hydra. 

Peter sat there for maybe an hour more before someone else came in again, this time bearing food. Peter hadn’t even realized that he was so hungry, but once he smelled the scent of food, his stomach started aching. He almost forgot about the food, though, when he saw who was carrying the tray. The man from the woods. His father, apparently. Peter didn’t say anything though, instead gauging the man. He was less intimidating in stature without the metal suit, but of medium height. He seemed sure of himself, but Peter could see a hint of uncertainty in his eyes. 

“I figured you would be hungry, so I brought you some food.” He said putting the plate in front of Peter. He took a remote out of his pocket and pressed a button, and Peter’s handcuffs opened, he was still cuffed at the feet, and the chair was bolted to the floor as far as he could tell. There weren’t any utensils on the plate, just the food, but Peter was used to that. They never gave him utensils. He picked up a piece of bread tentatively and took a bite out of it when he didn’t feel warning signs. 

“Do you know who I am?” The man asked him. When he spoke, it added a little bit to Peter’s headache, as if his memories were pounding on the side of his head. 

“I know what they told me.” He said. The man’s expression looked sad, and heavy with an emotion Peter wasn’t familiar with. 

“Well, then, I guess I’ll introduce myself. I’m Tony Stark, and I’m your dad.” 

Stark. That name echoed around his head, and it sounded so familiar. It was his last name, he remembered with a start. A small memory broke through into his mind of a lady calling out his name and him replying to her saying that he was there. So that must mean that this truly was his father if they shared a last name. He could be lying, a paranoid voice in the back of his mind whispered. But Peter had quite literally nothing to lose. He wanted to find out more about his old life, and his old family. 

“Do I have a mother?” Peter asked him, finishing the bread and moving on to a pile of steamed broccoli. The food was shockingly higher quality than anything he could remember eating. 

“No,” Tony (Maybe Dad? Peter wasn’t sure) said, “She died in childbirth.”

Peter nodded quietly. He sat in silence for a moment, trying to think of something else to ask him about, but Tony (he would call him Tony for now) beat him to the punch. 

“Do you have any memories?” The man asked him. “Not enough,” Peter said. “Only one full memory.” He felt more at ease around this man somehow, than he had felt with Natasha. Maybe it was because this man was Peter’s only way of finding out about himself. 

“Do you want to share it with the class?” The man said, but not in a cruel way. It was softer and kinder than Peter thought that phrase could've been. 

“I’m not sure what it was, entirely.” He admitted. 

“That’s okay,” Tony said. “Just tell me anything you remember.”

“I was with you. We were at a house maybe, and I was opening a box, and it had a red wrapping, and I was really excited, and that's all I can remember now. I forgot the rest.” 

“That’s okay. It’s good you remember something, at least.” When Peter had been telling the story, Tony’s face had gotten wistful, as if remembering what Peter was talking about. “Do you have any other questions? I want to do anything I can to help you remember kid, I really do.” 

Peter studied the man’s face for a moment. As far as he could tell he was sincere. But Peter was still scared. He was still scared that HYDRA would come and pull the rug out from under him at any second. They could kill him, or Tony, or Natasha, and Peter was terrified the most that they wouldn’t kill him, that they would just take him back and wipe him again. He never wanted to go back to that feeling, feeling helpless and lost, and so numb from everything around him. Powerless to control what he said or did, and no ties to his past, floating around like a boat with no anchor. He would never go back to being like that. “Ok.” He said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay. Marching band just sucks is all I can say. Hope you enjoyed!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be warned, there is some swearing in this chapter.

The day Tony became a father wasn’t supposed to be an eventful one. He was just supposed to work in his lab all day, and attend one meeting. He might’ve skipped the meeting. But it didn’t matter much anyway. It was just a dull board meeting, but he knew he would probably get an earful from Pepper about this. He was fiddling with some new designs for missiles to produce when his AI, JARVIS, chimed over the loudspeaker in his lab, cutting off the rock music that had been blaring before. 

Tony glanced up from the holographic blueprints. “Why is the hospital calling me?” 

“I believe it has something to do with Mary and Richard Parker.” 

“Mary and Richard? Did something go wrong with the pregnancy? Did Mary go into labor?” He asked, sitting up. Mary and Richard were close friends of his, through research projects they had done together, as they were both biologists. 

“I do not know sir. Perhaps you had better answer the call to find out.” 

“Ok, J, transfer the call to my phone.” He said, flipping open his phone. 

“Hello?” A woman’s voice said from the other end of the phone. “Is this Tony Stark?” 

“Yes.” He said hesitantly. “What’s this about?” 

“Do you know a Mary Parker, Mr. Stark?” 

“Yes, what about her?” He asked, knowing in his gut that he probably wouldn’t like whatever information was given to him next.

“I regret to have to inform you of this news, but she’s dead.” The woman said, her tone tinged with sympathy. Tony froze in shock for a second. 

“What? Mary’s dead?” He said, putting his head in his hands, leaning on his desk. “How?” 

“Childbirth.” 

“God, that’s awful. Is the-is the, um-” 

“The child is fine, Mr. Stark. A baby boy.” 

“That’s something, at least. Wait, why is the hospital calling me? No offense, Dr...” 

“Munoz. You were listed in her will as a potential guardian if anything went wrong, and well, here we are.” 

“Guardian? What about Richard? He’s the kid’s father. Is he not at the hospital?” 

“Mr. Parker left only an hour ago. He decided that he did not want to be the child’s guardian. He signed away his rights to guardianship.” 

“He what?! You didn’t try to stop him?” 

“Of course we did, Mr. Stark, but there’s a certain point where you cannot possibly stop someone who’s made up their mind to do something. Now, we just need you to come down to the hospital. You don’t actually have to be the child’s guardian if you don’t want to be since I know that you’re a busy man, but we need to make arrangements about where the child is going to go next.”

Tony rubbed his forehead. He didn’t think that he’d been this stressed ever. Not even in attending one of the nation’s top universities as a teenager. “Ok, I’ll be right there.” He hung up, and sat still for a moment, trying to soak everything in for a second. Mary was dead, and Richard had left for God knows where. And now there was this kid, with no parents and no relatives, that Tony knew of, who could take the kid in. So Tony was left with two options: Put the kid into the system or take in the kid himself. He didn’t know what had possessed Mary to give him guardianship of her child, but he knew he couldn’t just throw the kid into the system. So that left one option, and Tony’s least favorite. He couldn’t raise a child. He could barely take care of himself most of the time. 

“Christ, this is complicated. What do you think I should do J?” He asked. He ran his hands through his hair, making it stick up in a way that he was sure his publicists would not approve of. 

“I think that you should go to the hospital, and perhaps you’ll gain some insight. I would also advise talking to someone else. Perhaps Mr. Hogan, as I have already called him to escort you. He should be here in 15 minutes.” 

Tony sighed. “Ok.” Any other day, he would have argued that he could drive himself, but today, he just felt depleted.

He picked up his phone again and flipped through his contacts until he found the one he was looking for. It rang and rang, and just as Tony thought that it was going to go straight to voicemail, he picked up. 

“Where the fuck are you Richard?” He spat. 

“T-Tony?” 

“Yeah, it’s me. Where the fuck are you? Why aren’t you at the hospital? You’re supposed to be at the hospital.” 

“I don't know. I'm leaving. I can’t. I just can’t Tony. I can’t raise a kid on my own.” Richard said, and Tony could hear the faint hum of an engine in the background of the call.

“Like hell, you won’t. He’s your son. You can’t just abandon him. He’s not even a day old yet. Doesn't that mean anything to you?”

“I’m not father material, I don’t know anything about kids. I was- I was supposed to do this with Mary, but she’s gone… and I can’t do it alone. I just can’t. She was better at this kind of stuff. She knew what to do. I can't - I can't do it without her.” Tony heard him start crying softly, and he almost felt bad. 

"C’mon Rich. He’s your kid. You can’t just leave him with strangers. He’ll get tossed into the system, and put God knows where. You’re telling me you won’t regret this, giving him up?” Tony said. He was admittedly feeling a bit panicked, and he was desperate to get Richard back here, to talk this out. 

“It’s his best chance. He wouldn’t want me as his father anyway. I'd be shit at it. I’m sorry Tony.” And with that, he hung up. Tony sat there in shock, staring at his phone. He let out a long, grieved sigh. He was pissed, to say the least. He had always thought more of his friend. BUt Tony supposed he didn't really know Richard at all. He had lost two friends this night, it seemed. And then there was the kid. The one who was just sitting in a hospital, with no one. Except for Tony, it seemed.

“Am I actually considering this?” He wondered aloud, standing up and pacing around the workshop. If he were to actually raise a child, everything about Tony’s life would change. No more all-night benders in the lab, no more nights out partying and getting drunk, no more crazy stunts. Just raising a child on his own. How the hell was he supposed to do that? He could barely take care of himself, and god forbid he fucked up the child so bad that he turned out to be just like him. That was probably the worst possible outcome of this. Tony knew that raising a kid was not a project he could be done with after a month or so. It was eighteen years of constant care and supervision, making sure the kid makes the right choices, preaching morals and playing games, and Tony wasn’t sure that he was the man for the job. But there was a small voice in the back of his head, nagging at him. If he didn’t do it, who would?

Before leaving, he washed his hands in the workshop sink and grabbed a new, slightly less grease-stained shirt from his room. By that time, Happy had already arrived and was waiting for him outside. 

“Hey.” He said as Tony walked out of the house, and tossed him the keys. He had learned a few weeks into his employment with Tony that he refused to be driven anywhere unless absolutely necessary. 

“Where are we going?” He asked. 

“Hospital.”

“The hospital? Why? Is everything okay? Are you injured or something?” 

“I’ll tell you on the way there,” Tony said, getting into the car and closing the door.

Tony walked into the hospital, bleary-eyed and tired. He had sort of fixed his messy hair in the car, but nowhere near acceptable. Happy had tried to argue with him after he had told him what had happened, but Tony had gone into the hospital anyway.

He hated everything about hospitals. He hated the stench of disinfectant, the tired and mournful looks on the faces of the people inside, the blank walls with nondescript paintings that put up an illusion of happiness, and the waiting. All of the waiting. He remembered having to come to the hospital after his parents had died, and it had been one of the worst experiences of his life. But he pushed all of that to the back of his mind at the moment. 

He walked up to the front desk to talk to the nurse manning it. “I’m looking for Dr. Munoz.” 

The nurse nodded and checked something on her computer. “She’ll be right here. You can wait just over there.” She said, motioning to a row of plastic chairs next to a pair of double doors. She never looked up from her computer screen, which he supposed was a good thing. The last thing he needed tonight was the paparazzi. Tony thanked her, and walked over and sat in a chair, idly flipping through a gossip magazine he found on a table. He snorted when he read an article about himself, speculating on who he was dating, and then set it aside. The minutes seemed to stretch like hours as he jiggled his leg impatiently. 

Finally, an older Latina woman with grey streaks in her hair and wearing a white lab coat walked out of the double doors. 

“Mr. Stark?” She asked. She looked harried, her hair coming out of her ponytail in small strands, and she had bags under her eyes.

He stood up nervously, his stomach suddenly twisting itself with anxiety. “Dr. Munoz, I assume.” He shook her hand. “I would say it’s nice to meet you, but under the circumstances…” 

“Of course. Would you like to see the baby?” She asked. 

“Yeah, sure. ” He said, his stomach twisting again. 

“The maternity ward is just this way.” She said, leading him through the double doors. “Now, for the guardianship. As I believe I said before, you do not have to keep the child. You can put him into the system, and they’ll do their best to make sure that he is put into a good home.” Tony nodded, slightly uncertain. “If you do choose to keep him, I have to warn you, it will be difficult. Parenting isn’t some side thing you can do with half of a mind, Mr. Stark. It’s a full-time job.” 

“I’m aware of that.” He said. His stomach had decided to start practicing to become a trapeze artist, apparently

She stared at him for a moment, “Are you sure?” Tony stayed silent for a moment, a rarity for him. “Raising a child is a challenge, and some people aren’t cut out for it. If you decide not to keep this child, then no one would blame you.” She said. With that, she walked into the maternity ward. There were probably about twenty bassinets, all in all, lined up in neat rows.

Tony stood in front of the glass window and watched as Dr. Munoz spoke with one of the nurses, who went over to a small bassinet in the corner of the nursery and picked up a small bundle. Tony’s anxiety rose like a crescendo, swooping in his stomach. Was he making the right choice? The nurse handed Dr. Munoz the baby, and she walked out to Tony. 

“This is Peter.” She said, handing him off to Tony. She showed him the right way to hold him, and once Tony got the hang of it, she let go. 

Tony stared at Peter for a second, absolutely dumbfounded. His face was scrunched up and red, and his eyes were squeezed shut. He was wrapped in a blue and pink blanket, and underneath he had on a white onesie. He was sleeping peacefully, blowing small spit bubbles from his mouth as he took in small breaths. Once Tony was holding him steady, he leaned his head into Tony’s chest. As Tony stared down at the kid, he knew he couldn’t just leave him behind. Mary was dead, and in Tony’s eyes, Richard could go fuck himself. He could figure out how to take care of a kid. Billions of people had done it before him, and they had done fine, hadn’t they? Still Tony felt doubt tugging at the back of his mind. What if he turned out to be a horrible parent? He had no experience with kids, and his father had never been the warmest when he was growing up. He was always in his lab, ignoring Tony, and focusing on his work instead. But Tony wasn’t turning back now. He didn’t see how he could. 

He was going to have to get a parenting book. 

Peter found himself on the beach from his memory, standing barefoot in the sand. The air was still, the only noise the crashing and roaring of the ocean as waves broke and rolled. The sky was grey and cloudy, and a sharp wind cut through his skin, and he felt like he could feel the wind chilling his bones. He was only wearing a t-shirt and sweatpants in his dream, probably the reason he was so cold. They were soft, softer than the normal clothes that he wore, and it was jarring to him in away. There was no one else on the beach as far as he could see except for him, and he couldn’t hear any cars in the distance, and he couldn’t see any buildings. It was peaceful 

Peter was finally alone, with almost complete silence. With his enhancements, he often found it difficult to tune out noises, particularly when they were so loud, but he was only surrounded by nature now. From his training, he knew he should always be on the alert, always be on guard, but he allowed himself to relax for a moment. Peter took a couple of steps forward and felt the icy cold waves lap at feet, stinging slightly, but not in an entirely unpleasant way. There was no HYDRA here, no one to control him, or to hurt him. He was completely alone now. No one confusing him with new memories, no war in his head. Just Peter. There wasn’t room for anyone else here. 

He took a few steps more into the ocean, and now the water was up to his knees, soaking his sweatpants, but he didn’t really notice. The water was clear, and he could see some small pieces of seaweed floating in the water, along with small shells embedded in the seafloor. Peter had stopped walking forward, but he could feel the water rising quickly, above his knees, to his waist. Peter turned, and the shore was so far away, much farther than he had remembered walking. He started trying to walk back to shore, but the water was up to his neck now, and the cold was enveloping him. 

Suddenly, everything went dark as a wave crashed into him, knocking him under the water, and now he could hear machines beeping and people talking in rapid-fire German. The cold was still there though, eating at him, paralyzing him, making him feel sluggish and disoriented. And there was pain, so much pain. The cold was icier now, and it was stinging at Peter’s skin. He tried to move to curl up into a ball, but his arms and legs were strapped down. HE tried to take in deep breaths, but the cold was burning his lungs. The pain was intense now, and his heart was pounding in his head, drowning out the other noises around him until it was all that he could hear. He could feel small ice crystals forming on his skin, and they kept falling as he strained against his binds, begging to be let out. He was screaming, he could barely hear over the sound of his heartbeat. For a moment, he swore he could hear someone calling his name. 

Tony poured himself another cup of coffee and swiveled back to the screen he’d been looking at. He sifted through loads of encrypted files, one after the other, trying to find something, anything useful. They were all from SHIELD/HYDRA data dump from a couple of years ago. All of the files had been removed from the internet, but Tony still had access to them through his Avengers status. He sorted the files first by date, eliminating any date before Peter was taken, and though it somewhat narrowed his search, he was still left with mountains of encrypted data to wade through. He had been sorting for maybe a couple hours, he thought, but when he looked at the clock, he was surprised to see that six hours had passed. 

He was desperate for information. He didn’t care what kind of horrors he might find in those files, he wanted to find out what they had done to his kid. What they had done to him to make the shell that Tony had talked to in that interrogation room. He thought he had never experienced anything harder than when Peter had asked him who he was. Like Tony hadn’t been there for his first steps, his first day of kindergarten, and a million other little memories that Tony treasured. And all the happy memories Peter had ever had been stripped away from him, and Tony couldn’t rest soundly until he figured out a way to help him. 

He combed through what felt like thousands of encrypted files, searching for something, anything, that could relate to Peter. His eyes ached, and he could feel them watering from time to time, but he wasn’t about to give up. After sifting through some more files, and feeling his spirits sink more and more as he went on, Tony finally found something. 

It was a file labeled Spider, and Tony remembered that Peter had told Nat that was his code name. Tony sat up straight and felt a rush of adrenaline course through his veins. 

“Hey, Fri, start running decryption keys on this file.” He said, and a progress bar popped up on the screen. 

“The decryption should be done in approximately 2 hours, boss.” 

Tony let out a sigh and looked around the workshop for something to do. He didn’t want to wait two hours for this information, but he couldn’t very well speed up the process. At the same time, Tony knew he wouldn’t be able to focus on working on his suit right now, so he decided to tackle some smaller projects first. Pepper had been on him to get those specs for the new Stark phone done, so he started working on that, adding new upgrades and a few more special features. He set his elbow on his desk, and put his head in his hand, flipping through holograms of the phone, and before he knew what was going on, he had drifted off into blissful oblivion. 

An hour later, he startled awake to a soft ding. The encryption was done. Tony felt excited, but also dread. Here were the answers under his nose for years, to the question that had haunted him. 

He clicked open the file, and he could feel his heart speed up. The first log was dated six years ago, a week after Peter had been taken. It was a long medical report detailing a procedure that was described as “an enhancement of human abilities beyond the regular.” The report talked of them injecting him with altered spider DNA, and the… reactions Peter had to it. Fever of 104 for three days, throwing up, passing out, and nearly dying close to the end. Tony could hardly focus for a moment. He hadn’t been there for him, and this was what had happened. But why? Why his kid? HYDRA hadn’t tried to ransom Peter, hadn’t tried to get some advanced weapon from Tony, or anything of the sort. If they needed lab rats, why not take any other person? Why not a HYDRA member, a trained soldier. They would be easier to control, easier to keep obedient. They had gone to a world of trouble just to kidnap Peter, as well as extra time… training him and programming him. Tony hated to think about that. His kid was the opposite of a killer. At least, the one he knew. But Tony had started on an idea, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to drop it. It didn’t line up. He was missing something. Something big. 

Tony scanned through the report again, and a line in the conclusion caught his eye. He read it over and over, and he couldn't help but feel like he was teetering on the edge of a panic attack. Well, he had felt like that for the past day or so, but now he felt like he was really looking over the precipice of the cliff. "The success of the experiment was aided by the previous existing components of spider DNA in the subject's blood." Shit. They needed to call another meeting.


	5. Chapter 5

Peter stared at the wall in his cell, waiting. It was much nicer than his old cell, with an adjoining bathroom and a much more comfortable bed, but it was still a cell. He knew that they were watching him, he could see the cameras, so he just sat still, on the edge of the bed. 

His attempt at sleeping hadn’t worked, just wracked with far off painful memories, so he had given up. He now just left to think. And Peter was wracking his brain for memories, any memories at all, from before. He only had fragments in his mind, and most of them were fuzzy snapshots. Natasha had left the file of photos in this cell, but Peter had left it untouched at the edge of the bed. He was afraid of what he might find in that file. 

Right now, he didn’t have to be anything. He was nothing, floating in an in-between space of mattering and not mattering. He wasn’t HYDRA’s anymore, he wasn’t anybody’s. It was a sense of autonomy he hadn’t felt in a long time. A small part of him wanted to go back to before, mindless and controlled because that was at least easier than this. Whatever this was. Having choices, he supposed, having emotions. But opening the rest of that file would solidify all of this. The fact that Peter wasn’t who he thought he was, that he was more than just a weapon. He had had a life. A family. People who cared about him, as hard as it was for him to believe. He wanted to know. He did. So, he finally made the decision to turn and pick up the file. Opening it first, he saw the picture that Natasha had shown him, of himself when he was younger. He quickly moved that aside, not wanting a repeat fo what had happened in the interrogation room. 

The next thing in the file was a newspaper clipping of an article. It had been written four years prior, about him. It detailed his disappearance and the search for him. They had searched nearly the whole state of New York for him. And they talked about the discovery of the body two years later, deep in the woods of Maine, and what they thought had happened. An accidental death, with blunt force trauma to the head. A kidnapping for ransom gone wrong. Peter stared at the paper for a minute. Theoretically, he knew this. He knew that he was presumed dead. But seeing it written down made it feel real like he’d suspected it would. He had a father, a father that had been looking for him nonstop. It made him feel unbalanced and strange. He was supposed to be invisible and unimportant to those around him. This was the opposite of what he was taught to believe. Instead of making him happy, like he thought maybe it should’ve, he just felt terrified, and like curling up into a ball in the corner of this room. But he knew there were cameras in the room, so he just sat on the edge of the bed and stared at the newspaper clipping. His brain was running a mile a minute, trying to make sense of this situation, and everything that had changed for him in the last forty-eight hours alone

Tony sat in the meeting room, impatient, jiggling his leg and fiddling with his pencil as he waited for the Avengers to file in. Most of them were in their pajamas, except for Natasha and Steve, who were both fully dressed, Natasha in jeans and a leather jacket, and Steve in jogging clothes. Rhodey was on a video call, as he was in Washington D.C, looking disgruntled. “Did you sleep at all last night, Tony?” Sam asked, plopping down in a chair, looking grumpy. “No. That’s what coffee was made for.” He said. “What’s up, Tony? Did you access the files yet?” Steve asked. 

“As a matter of fact, yes.” He pulled up the file on the hologram screen on the table. “Our suspicions were confirmed. They did brainwash him… among other things.” Tony said, staring again at the first medical report about the injections they had given him. He found the section about the DNA and zoomed into it. “I found this while I was reading through the files, and I thought it was weird.” 

The group stared at the sentence highlighted for a moment. 

“Does that mean what I think it means?” Rhodey said, his brow furrowing. 

“How?” Natasha asked. 

Tony shook his head. “I have no idea.” 

“Explains a motive though. Why they wanted him, at least. But we can look into that later. Right now, we have to talk about what we’re going to tell the U.N and Ross because we have a call scheduled in an hour to discuss the mission. What are we going to tell them?” Steve said. 

“I say we suggest rehabilitation. They accepted it with Bucky. Why should Peter be any different?” Tony said, leaning back into his chair.

“We’ll have to make a good case though. It took a lot of convincing to get them to permit Bucky to stay in the States.” Wanda said, tugging on a strand of her hair. 

“We’d better get started then,” Natasha said. “From his improvement in the last two days, we can already make a solid case for the effectiveness of the rehabilitation. We just have to prove that he was actually being controlled by HYDRA while he committed these crimes. It should be simple now that we have the files on hand.”

So for the next hour, they combed through the videos and reports of Peter’s mental correction. It made Tony want to scream and cry at the same time. The videos were of Peter, strapped up to a chair, wires streaming off him, and muted videos of him screaming, his back arched in pain, his eyes watering. Tony was glad at least that the videos were muted. He didn’t think he could stand hearing them right now.

They managed to get enough evidence for what Tony considered to be a good case. It had to be a good enough case because he wasn’t having Peter taken away from him again. He had finally gotten his son back. He finally had a chance of getting his family back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the short chapter. This chapter was strangely difficult for me to write. Not my best work, but I hope you guys enjoy it!


	6. Chapter 6

When they picked up the call, they saw the grim faces of the U.N panel assembled to monitor the Avengers, including at their helm, Thaddeus Ross. The Accords had been modified drastically from their original form, to appease both sides, and once they had finally come out of the end of that tunnel, the council was assembled. The Avengers still had control over which missions to go on, and they declined any missions that they deemed unnecessary for superpowered forces or were too baldly political. Ross hadn’t been very happy about this agreement, but conceded in the end, because the main goal of the Accords was reached. The Avengers were now somewhat controlled. There were eleven other people on the council, all with backgrounds of political or military training, and highly qualified.

“Morning, council,” Steve said.

“Good morning, Avengers. Do you have a mission report for us?” One of the council members said. She was a serious-looking woman, with mid-length brown hair. Tony couldn’t remember very well, but he thought that she came from one of the Nordic countries in Europe.

“We were successful in capturing the base and clearing it out. Nearly no prisoners were taken, per usual, they all popped a pill before we could stop them or escaped, probably to the next base. We got plenty of data, which we’re scanning for more information on the other bases. We don’t think that there are very many bases left to raid, only a couple more to go.” Sam said, reading off a typed piece of paper in front of him. 

“Nearly no prisoners? Who did you capture?” Ross asked, seeming to sit up a little straighter in his chair. A few of the other council members did too. It was rare that they managed to bring back many soldiers from these raids.

“And that brings us to our next point. I think I’ll let Tony take this one.” Sam said

Tony took in a deep breath, rattling with nerves. He couldn’t show them though, he never did. He launched into an explanation of the situation. He surveyed the expressions of the council as he talked, gauging their thoughts. Most of them looked attentive, pensive, and apprehensive.

“So, what do you propose we do about this situation, then?” A man from the back row of the council asked.

“I was going to say that I think we should do the same thing here as Barnes was allowed to do after we found him. Ask Wakanda if they would treat him there, because they’re the only ones who have the technology to do that kind of treatment. We can help him until he’s ready to go back into society.” Tony said.

“How do we know that he will make progress? Barnes already had most of his memory by the time we found him, but the way that you describe this boy, it sounds like he hardly has any memory. How do you know that he won’t resist treatment and injure others?”

“He’s already made progress,” Natasha chimed in, “He’s begun to recognize his name, and pictures of past family members.” 

“I propose that we go ahead with letting him go through recovery. When the Wakandans feel that he is fully recovered, he can be evaluated by a psychologist that we pick, just to verify that he is mentally stable enough to return.”

“We have to set boundaries, however. If he seriously injures anyone in the time that he is in recovery and afterwards, then I think it’s safe to say that we may have to rethink the freedoms we grant him.” Ross said.

“Of course, we will most likely have a more definitive set of rules by the time that he has recovered, if he recovers.” The Nordic woman replied to Ross.

“Alright, I say we take this to a vote. Raise your hand if you are in favor of allowing Peter Stark to undergo recovery, supposing that Wakanda allows him to.”

Most of the council raised their hands except for two or three people, including Secretary Ross, but Tony tried not to let that get him down. They had approved Peter to go through with recovery. Now all they had to was get in though with T’Challa, and ask him if they would allow Peter to go there to be treated, but that felt like a smaller worry. 

Tony went back down to his lab after the meeting. He had wanted to go in to talk to Peter, but Friday had told him that he had fallen asleep. So he sat in his lab, just going through the file again, watching the videos, and reading about what they had put him through. Just the barest scan made  
him feel useless and helpless, but he kept going because he had to know what they did to Peter. He watched countless videos of Peter’s memory wipes, and his training until he felt like he wanted to burn his eyes out and forget the last few hours.

“Boss?” Friday piped up over the utter silence in the lab after Tony had shut off the most recent video, “Ms. Potts is approaching.” 

Tony closed the file and waited for the elevator to arrive. When the doors opened, Pepper rushed out. She looked put together, as she always did, but there were a couple of tells she had when she was stressed or worried that Tony noticed immediately. There was a strand of hair falling out of her usually perfectly placed hair and to the side of her face, and her eyes had that “don’t mess with me” look in them for a moment before they softened. She walked over to him, and just stood still for a moment, scanning Tony’s face. 

“Is it true?” She said, and when she finished, she looked like she was holding her breath. Pepper had been the closest thing that Peter had ever had to a motherly figure, and Tony knew Pepper felt the same way. She had taken care of him when Tony went missing in Afghanistan for 3 months, and she took care of him in the battle of Manhattan. When Peter had gone missing, she had been almost as torn up as Tony had been, but she kept her cool much better than he had. She was the one who had helped him the most when he had first brought Peter home. At first, she was furious at him, but she conceded and helped him when she saw the change that Peter brought in him. She had forced him to read several parenting books and helped him put together Peter’s room at his old house.

“Yes.” He said softly. Pepper let out the breath, and threw her arms around Tony, wrapping him in a hug. He hugged her back, gently wrapping his arms around her.

“He came home, Tony. He really did.” She said, and he could feel her breaths hiccup as she cried. 

“God, why aren’t you a bigger mess right now?” She said, sniffling, and pulling out of the hug slightly, but still keeping her arms wrapped around his waist. 

“I went through my mess phase eight hours ago. You missed it. I’m now in the six cups of coffee and sleep deprivation phase.” 

She arched an eyebrow but gave a soft smile. “How is he? Is he okay? Where is he?” 

“He’s upstairs right now, asleep. I don’t know what’s going to happen from here. We got clearance from the U.N to bring him to Wakanda, which is good, but, I don’t know. I think I’m scared.” 

“Of what?” 

“I don’t know. Maybe that he’ll never remember. That he won’t be able to get past this. I just want him to have a chance to be a normal kid. He’s-he’s still just fourteen. Seeing the look on his face though, you would think that he’s years older. I want to give him as much of his childhood back as possible, but I don’t know how I can with what they did to him over there.” He took a deep breath. “Maybe I am still in the mess phase.” He said, with a dry chuckle. 

He leaned his head on Pepper’s shoulder. “How are we supposed to go from here?’ He said. “I always wished that I could see him again, even just for a couple of minutes, but now that he’s back, what am I supposed to do? I want to help him so badly, but I have no idea how.” He lifted his head up from Pepper’s shoulder and looked at her. 

“You can help him by being his dad. He needs support right now. He’s probably terrified right now, and he needs you to be there for him.” Pepper said, cupping his face with one hand. Tony nodded and swallowed. “What if he doesn’t want me? 

“And there was something else I found when I was looking through the files, and I think it has something to do with Richard or Mary.” 

“Richard and Mary? Why? Is Peter sick? I can find their medical records. I’m sure we have them on file somewhere-” 

“It’s not that. There’s something that I found in the HYDRA file that I can’t explain. Mary was a geneticist, right?”   
“Yes, I think so.” 

“Well, in the files, they talk about how they… gave Peter his powers, and there was a line in the report that sounded strange to me. It was talking about preexisting spider DNA merged with his regular DNA being compatible with their experiments. And I thought, that’s impossible, right? But then I started looking into Mary and Richard’s research, and I found something that Mary was working on right before she died.” Tony opened another hologram, showing a scientific paper that was written by Mary about a month before her death. It was only half-finished. “It was an experiment she was working on in splicing spider genes into other organisms. And I think that she was experimenting on Peter, inserting spider genes into him after her initial trials worked.” 

Pepper frowned and moved closer to the screen to get a better look. “Why would she do that to him?”

Tony sighed for what felt like the millionth time that day. “I have no idea. I never thought that she would be capable of experimenting with something so… unpredictable on another human being, let alone her child. I’m just confused, to be honest. How did Hydra know about this?” He asked, semi-rhetorically.

“They might have taken some research from her house or lab after her death. Everything was so rushed in packing up that they may have been able to get some research that she hadn’t yet uploaded into her computer. But Tony,” Pepper said, turning her head to look at him, “you know who might be able to answer some questions?” 

Tony shook his head. “No way, Pep. I’m not reaching out to him. It’s fine. I have it handled.” 

“Okay,” Pepper said. She hadn’t really expected anything else, but it didn’t hurt to ask. “If you say so.” 

“Hey,” He said, turning to her. “He’s back.” He smiled slightly. “We got him back.” 

She smiled back, and took his hand again. “We did.”

For the first time in a while, Tony felt pure happiness wash over him. For a moment, he forgot about all the other stresses, and thought about the fact that his son was finally back with him, something that he could have never imagined happening in a million years. He would get to see more milestones, like a first kiss, high school graduation, college, and so many other things that Tony hadn’t thought he would ever get to see. Peter had a chance now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that everyone is staying safe in these times! It's been very scary lately, and I hope everyone is doing well. I love your encouraging comments, they always make me want to write more. I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter, and hopefully, I'll have the next one out in a few weeks. That part with the UN council was for some reason incredibly difficult for me to write, so it took me longer than usual to be able to sit down and actually write it.


End file.
